Hope you're more rested today, Edith.
I'm thinking of all your lovely descriptions of the land around you, and it occurs to me that you could do seasonal socks - sometimes they would be mostly brown, sometimes mostly green, etc. depending on what was growing in the fields at time of knitting
That reminds me of a poem we learnt at school, which I absolutely loved then and still do.
It's by the Irish poet Joseph Campbell. [late 19th/early20th]
I will go with my father a-ploughing
I will go with my father a-ploughing
To the green field by the sea,
And the rooks and the crows and the seagulls
Will come flocking after me.
I will sing to the patient horses
With the lark in the shine of the air,
And my father will sing the plough-song
That blesses the cleaving share.
I will go with my father a-sowing
To the red field by the sea,
And the rooks and the gulls and the starlings
Will come flocking after me.
I will sing to the striding sowers
With the finch on the flow'ring sloe,
And my father will sing the seed-song
That only the wise men know.
I will go with my father a-reaping
To the brown field by the sea,
And the geese and the crows and the children
Will come flocking after me.
I will sing to the weary reapers
With the wren in the heat of the sun,
And my father will sing the scythe song
That joys for the harvest done.